


The shop

by Sneezysoul



Series: Gay science shenanigans [1]
Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: A small fic I wrote a while ago! Cave/Greg+AU. (this is really rushed deal with it), And that's sayin' something!, M/M, There should be more Cave/Greg content man there's like less than Cave/Doug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneezysoul/pseuds/Sneezysoul
Summary: “Little shy glances, the lingering touch of fingers, the sweetest of smiles.If it were allowed, the shop owner would gladly call them her favorite couple, by far.”





	The shop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigerclawblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerclawblues/gifts).



> Please note: This may be inaccurate given the timeline, and the characters may be ooc.  
> I just....wanted to write this. Deal.

They were always together, entering the shop and exiting the shop. They seemed the most best of friends, and, if the shop owner had to guess, maybe...together?

They knew what they wanted to order before they came in, they knew which seat to take just as they enter, and they always knew what the other wanted. They’d mumble jokes to one another or chuckle over newspapers whenever they thought no one was looking.

Little shy glances, the lingering touch of fingers, the sweetest of smiles.

If it were allowed, the shop owner would gladly call them her favorite couple, by far. They looked the sweetest and happiest when with each other, and she couldn’t imagine what would happen if they were to ever become separated.

It was just a feeling of hers to just know that these men knew what they were to each other. They were her golden couple - her favorite customers, if only for the sweet picture they made whenever they ordered their favorite drinks.

She smiles to herself, chancing a glance to the corner the two usually sat in. Underneath the table they held hands, kicking lightly at one another as they spoke.

What an amazing thing to witness.

-o-

It was raining rather hard outside, the rain pelting along the roof sounding like stones instead of water. It may or may not have been hail, but the shop owner didn’t feel like finding out.

The radio on the counter played some slow jazz, the last customer finally getting up to leave.

The day was over. All she needed to do was clean the dishes, wipe the tables, and she could go face the rain herself.

Just as she’s about to do so, the bell atop the door chimes. Turning to look, she smiles as, lo and behold, her favorite couple walk inside, both looking soaked to the bone, grins on their faces, looking as if they’d just tried to race the storm outside.

“I told you it’d rain today,” the smaller says, brushing wet bangs out of his face. The normally curly hair was now dripping wet, water dripping from it to the floor as he gives his head a shake.

The owner silently walks to the front bar, ready to take their order. She could clean up the water as soon as she made their drinks. It’s not like any one else is planning to stop by for a coffee in this rain.

“I thought you said Monday,” the taller replies, voice a low rumble, adjusting the shoulders of his coat as he moves toward the bar to order.

“Today is Monday,” the other laughs, a soft sound in the peaceful shop. He walks up to the bar beside the other, minding the puddle of water they’d left. He shoots her an apologetic smile. She gives him a friendly nod.

The owner gives them her brightest smile - one she usually preserved for those she genuinely liked to see - and taps her fingers against the bar in a happy way, “what will it be today, gentlemen?”

“Chocolate supreme latte and a small black with two tablespoons of cream,” the man says without a moment’s hesitation. They’d come here so long, they stopped being shy around the owner a long time ago.

Back when they’d first come here, they were both awkward, shy men who couldn’t go a full sentence without stuttering. They now knew that the shop owner didn’t mind much as long as it didn’t ruin her business or hurt someone. The men had quickly gained their confidence in being here about as quick as a dog was to snatching up an offered treat.

Sad, though, that the three of them never knew each other’s names. The owner wouldn’t have minded knowing them, at least, but it wasn’t really her job to remember names, nor will it ever be.

She writes down their orders on her notepad quickly, before pausing, “do you want the candy cane that goes with the latte?”

“Do - do I want the candy cane that goes with the - of _course_ I do! No need to ask! Hell, throw in another while you’re at it!” The taller man says, grinning as he digs into his pocket for his wallet.

The owner scribbles a candy cane down next to their order. She could remember how many he’d wanted by the tapping of her fingers - one, two. She gives them a nod, “anything else, sirs?”

“Maybe some fudge, if you have any,” the smaller pipes up, “we haven’t eaten lunch.” he adds, shooting a pointed look to the other.

“You miss the lab alarm one time...” the taller man mumbles to himself, slapping down a twenty and tucking his wallet back where it’d come from.

The owner smiles as the two gently push at one another, sharing a silent conversation she knew wasn’t for her eyes to see. She takes the twenty and turns away from them, putting it inside the cash machine with a small shuffle.

“Pretty strange music for today, don’t you think?” the taller asks - how she knew it was him was simply by the tone of his voice. The man’s voice was pretty unforgettable. The smaller man’s voice had a lovely accent to it, while the taller seemed to have a voice that spoke. Like the man knew what he’d meant to say far before saying it.

The other shrugs, running his fingers through his hair again, the brown locks trying their best to dry and curl up once more, “I kinda like it. Gives the place a lonely feeling.”

A snort, “Only you would say that.”

A brush of cloth, the shop owner glances away from the coffee machines she’d started tending to see the two had linked their arms together; “Well, I don’t have to worry about being lonely. I can enjoy the tune, though.”

The owner smiles to herself, finally pouring the coffee into the cups - one supreme, one small, the sizes they always ordered.

Tossing in the requested ingredients and mixtures only takes another second. The owner is surprised to see the men still at the bar.

“Do you want your fudge to go?” She asks, setting their drinks down. She wouldn’t blame them if they chose to take off; it was raining. Who wouldn’t want to be home during this weather?

“No,” the smaller shrugs, unhooking his arm from the taller’s to collect their drinks, “we can sit here.”

The way he said it, combined with his earlier comments made the shopowner feel as if he’d just decided he would stay. She would normally think that someone would just sit around to add company in such a lonely shop, but she knew that the man probably had more on his mind than keeping her company.

Plus, that’d be weird, wouldn’t it? - The man staying here for her sake. He must like the shop’s lonely feel, perhaps, or the wooden walls that gave it an old rustic look. Maybe he liked the bar stools off to the side, which were just recently painted black and oiled not but a month ago.

Or he just wanted to wait the rain out. If that were the case, the shop owner would probably have a hard time telling them that the rain will last well over night.

She gives them a nod, “your brownies will be done in five minutes.”

Turning around, she doesnt mention the look they two men share, or how they chuckle under their breath about a joke she hadn’t bothered to hear.

She definitely doesn’t notice how the taller places his hand on the other’s back as they find their usual seats, nor how they both quietly bicker over who would get the better seat.

She was a shop owner. And she loved her customers.

But some things were not meant for her eyes.

-o-

“So, you come here often?”

She looks up from the register to arch an eyebrow at the man.

It was the man from the lovely couple, but this time was strange, as when he’d walked into the shop, he came in alone.

She didn’t question it, though, after seeing him smile and order a Sunday special. He was a sweet tooth, and from what she’d seen before, a sweetheart through and through.

But why he was without his partner this time she wouldn’t ask.

“Oh, I come here every blue moon or so.” She says, grinning at her own joke.

“Really? I could’a sworn I see you ‘round here every time I visit.”

“A hallucination - you must be dehydrated. You should order some more drinks.”

It takes the man less than a second to laugh, “yeah, right! I only need one cup of sugar, thanks!”

She knew how much of a sweet tooth he had, so she eggs him on, “you sure? Not even something to eat from the menu? - I’ll even price it half off, just for you!”

He takes this into consideration, humming out a long note, “oh. I told Greg I wouldn’t eat so much sugar...hey, you got any stuff to make those brownies from last week?”

“Sure do.” She says.

“Could you....awe, this is goin’ to sound cheesy, but go with it and shut up,” he says, tapping his fingers against his thigh nervously, “could you make a brownie heart-shaped?”

She smiles, “of course! - Is this for your associate, if I may ask?”

“Associate - Oh! Yeah, yeah that’s for him,” he nods, “he’s home sick, so I figured he’d get a good chuckle out of it.”

He says it as if it’s a joke. She’s not going to call him out on it - it wasn’t her place to. She writes down his order quickly. In this day and age, you’d think such a wonderful couple would be free from harm, but it was the forties, and if you lived in the forties, you’d know how awful it was for two men to galavant around together like a couple.

Even if they were a couple.

She honestly hopes that the fifties would be a bit more open, but she doubts it. Most people just prefer tradition over change.

She wasn’t one of those people, but it’s not like she’s going to pipe up and say she knew about this man’s other half and supported it. Talking about such things like that is practically taboo, and if one of her other customers heard her say she supported such a couple, her shop would go down in flames.

Buttery sweet flames.

She wonders if her shop would smell like cookies if it ever burned down. Maybe it’d just leave that burnt coffee smell. Everyone knows that smell lingers. Maybe the smell would be there forever.

If, say, her shop were to burn down, which she’s sure it won’t.

“That’ll be five, please.” She says, tapping out a receipt for him as he digs around his pockets in search of his wallet.

They go about their business as usual.

He waits at his usual table, though, and she can’t help but feel a small pang in her heart at how lonely he seemed, leg jumping up and down impatiently as he picks at the sleeves of his coat.

Even if he was simply sick, she hopes the other man would get better.

But ah, she was just a shop owner, what would she know?

-o-

Amazingly enough, the next time she meets the lovely couple, she’s sitting at a bench in front of the Bentley bank, newspaper in hand; Hitler escaped an assassination attempt just the other day, and she had pretty much read every newspaper about it out of curiosity’s sake.

Finding a newspaper with the correct information on it was pretty hard, though, but she managed to piece together most of what happened after reading a few different issues.

The two men instantly recognize her, and make their way over to the bench.

“Long time no see.” The smaller man mumbles out, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Nice to see you again,” she stands up, folding the newspaper into a small square, “I heard you were sick?”

“I’m better,” the man says, “just a little cough. They usually stick with me after a cold.”

“That’s good to hear!” she says, mostly out of politeness. She honestly didn’t care that much about the two men today, as she had spent most of the day running around town, and it left her rather tired of people.

You see, her shop was in danger of being foreclosed - she just couldn’t keep up with the payments for it, and so far none of her friends from high places were willing to help her. They’d all stuck up their noses and told her to ‘get a real job’.

Some friends.

She wishes she could pay them back somehow, but oh, she was poor, and so she’d have to wait to see what the poor people looked forward to seeing: karma.

“What’s up with your shop? We went there yesterday, but it was closed.” The taller man asks, picking at his sleeves - which, looking at them now, they were slightly frayed, as if the coat had seen fire once before. Interesting.

She shrugs, letting out an audible sigh, “it’s going to be foreclosed. I tried to save it just this morning, but no one is willing to help me out. I’m in more debt than I can shake a stick at.”

The two men looked surprised at hearing this, both of them sharing a look.

As if they’d both had a conversation within that look, the taller speaks up; “Well, if you’re looking for some work, we could probably help you out.”

The smaller man grins, “but only if you bring us coffee every so often.”

She...doesn’t know what to say for a moment, and as the seconds tick by, the two men start to lose their smiles.

“That is, if you want a job?” The smaller says.

She snaps out of her shock to smile, “it’s not a bad job, is it? - How much is the pay rate? What do I have to do? Who’s the manager?”

“Maybe, six an hour for our usual workers, but ten for the position we’re offering, you’re going to be my personal assistant,” the taller man says, before catching his breath. He holds out a hand, “and I’m the manager - or, well, the CEO of aperture science. You may call me Cave Johnson.”

She takes his hand without hesitation, giving it as firm of a shake as she could - something she learned from years of business. “And I am Caroline Fetchner, hopefully your personal assistant.”

“Hired. On the spot,” Cave grins, “by the way, this man this Greg, our head scientist. Say hi to Greg.”

“Hi to Greg,” she says automatically, earning herself a laugh.

This was so unreal - the CEO of aperture science, asking her to be his assistant? What led to such a thing?

“You make a mean latte, and, judging by your background, you have some experience in business,” Greg chimes in, and she realizes she’d asked that out loud, “which someone -” he gives Cave a pointed look “-never bothered to really get into.”

“Also handling funds. That’s one of your main tasks. Don’t put us in debt, and we won’t put you in our electromagnet intensity chamber.”

She is about to ask what the heck an ‘electromagnet intensity chamber’ was, but Greg clears his throat, pulling her mind away from such a thing.

“So, uh...” Greg shrugs, as if to himself, and puts out his hand, “Wanna do some science stuff with us?”

She takes his hand barely a second later,

“You didn’t even need to ask.”


End file.
